


No Snowflake Ever Falls in the Wrong Place

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Series: Voice Line-based Fics [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: You could tell yourself it'd be okay a million times and not quite believe it, but hearing it once from Zenyatta was enough.[Voice-line based drabble, gender neutral reader]





	No Snowflake Ever Falls in the Wrong Place

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sorry for the long wait, I've been really tied up in life struggles and depression, hence a change of pace with something a little more fluff-filled. As always, you can check out my stuff @the-yandere-cryptid on tumblr <3

“What troubles you?”

You should have known you couldn’t hide from him; Zenyatta could sense your turmoil from miles away. Immediately you felt the warm glow of his harmony orb hovering just behind your shoulder, shifting the mental weight off your shoulders. Instantly you felt 10 pounds lighter. The corners of your lips twitched.

“Not much,” you answered, turning a bit to face the omnic. Though his face couldn’t express concern, you could feel it from him. His massive range of emotion for someone who couldn’t move a single muscle on his face--due to the fact that he lacked them--was a mystery you'd forgotten to wonder about and simply chose to accept.   
  
“Well,” you shrugged, trying not to let your smile seem too lopsided. “Kind of.”  
  
He hummed, lowering his hover until he was more eye level with you. In his three by three grid of optic sensors, you could see the gentle blue glow flickering in simple, predictable patterns. "And what is "not much" meant to entail?"

You huffed and looked down at your feet, dangling precariously over the edge of the mountainside. Months at the Shambali temple had taught you against your aversion to the height, and now you found it more relaxing than anything to stare out over the cloudy mountain range. It had begun to take up more and more of your time, while you drifted in thought. You wondered if perhaps you were missing a meditation session, explaining why Zenyatta had come looking for you. The time was becoming so hard to keep track of.

"Sometimes..." you started, tapping the tile beneath your fingers, then turned to him. "I feel out of place here. And not just, you know, because I'm not an omnic, but..."

"Is that a disconnect that you experience?" Zenyatta asked. You stuck your tongue in your cheek.

"I mean, our life experiences are different," you started, folding your hands in your lap. "So I suppose we have less to talk about, but as far as connecting with the other monks--with  _ you _ \--" you swallowed and pulled one leg up to hug to your chest. "I feel like we see eye to eye, Zenyatta."

The middle row of his sensors began to blip in an ellipses fashion, stopping when he opened his mouth again. "I see. I apologize for interrupting you."

"Oh, it's no problem," you waved him off, turning your attention back to the crisp zig-zag of white mountain peaks against an even whiter sky. "It's not that, though. It's more...me."

He hummed again, but without any response. You ran your fingers through your hair, shaking out the flecks of snow that had landed on your head. "Life led me here, that much is true. But...do I belong here?"

You looked at him, but his inexpressive face held no answer for you. His response was prefaced only with the ellipses pattern drawing itself on the middle row of his sensor grid. You leaned in closer to him. "I just wonder if...sometimes I wonder if this is really where I'm supposed to be." 

Now it was him turning to the mountain range, the sleek profile of his face only more stark against the snowy backdrop. He held out his hand, and almost instantly a flake caught his palm and melted against the metal.

"Where else would you belong?" he questioned. You sighed slowly, looking up and down the edge of the Shambali temple. 

"I don't know, back home? Working?" You shrugged your shoulders. "I just feel like being here, so far away from everything, I just know there's got to be some obligation I'm forgetting, or--or--" You clenched your fist and trailed off in a huff, throwing your hand up in frustration before letting it come to rest on your raised knee. 

"Have you found peace here?" The question threw you for a loop, but when your obvious answer came to your lips, you found that it wasn't as sure as you thought.

"Of...course I have, Zenyatta." His face slowly angled towards you. If he detected your hesitation, he said nothing of it.

"And you've found happiness here with us?" You pulled your other leg up from the precipice and pulled your legs together.

"Of course." This answer came to you easier than the last.

"Then I can not think of a place more fitting for you to be." You opened your mouth to object, but no words came to mind or mouth. Whiplashed with the simplicity of his answer, you felt air sucked out of your lungs like his harmony orb sucked your doubts from your heart. He tilted his head and brought his hand up right in front of your eyes, where you could see the drops of melted snow on his metal fingers. "We are like snowflakes, fragile and fleeting in this life as we are, and no snowflake ever falls in the wrong place."

You can't help but smile at his worldly (or should you say wordy?) wisdom. You released the warm breath from your lungs, eyes shut, but he caught your attention again by clapping your shoulder. 

"If you've connected with us, and with me," you could hear the smile in his voice, bringing a blush to your cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold, "then you are home."

"Yeah," you agreed, watching his sensor grid flare with electric blue energy you could only imagine was delight. "I guess you're right."


End file.
